Come Back To Haunt Me
by BluWine
Summary: [Sequel to Things Change] Years after Patricia and Will Turner left Port Royal, life couldn't be better but ghosts from their parents' past have come looking for blood and Patricia's insecurities are shaking what could have been the perfect marriage.
1. I

**Title**: Come back to haunt me (sequel to Things Change)  
**Rating**: R on ff.n but some chapters have nc17 versions I can lead you to.  
**Premise**: The sequel to "Things Change" (I highly recommend reading that before this one. You'll get insanely lost.) It's been four years or so after Will Turner and Patricia Taylor had left Port Royal for Southampton, England and life couldn't possibly be better but they must visit the Caribbean for Will's flourishing business and there they are thrown back into the chaos that is Jack Sparrow and the world of the pirates of the Caribbean.

**Warnings:** a teaspoon of violence, a possible pinch of unjust death, a tablespoon of graphic blood and guts, several handfuls of fluff, just as much angst, Put em together? And you get my new story!

**Disclaimer: **Pirates of the Caribbean, its plotline and all characters from the movie are owned by Disney. I have no intention of making money out of this and do not intend on infringing Jerry Bruckheimer's rights upon it all. Patricia Taylor and a few people I make up along the way are mine, however.

_**MAJOR EDIT NOTE: BECAUSE I WAS SERIOUSLY CONFUSED ABOUT THE COMPASS AND ITS ACTUAL WORKINGS, I'VE HAD TO REWORK THE WHOLE STORY. NOW WITH DMC COMING OUT AND THE COMPASS'S TRUE NATURE IS FINALLY CONFIRMED, COME BACK TO HAUNT ME IS AGAIN ACTIVE AND I CAN FINALLY WRITE. ALL I CAN SAY IS DAMN COMPASS. PISSES ME OFF THAT THING. PLEASE RE-READ ALL SINCE EVERYTHING IS TWEAKED IN SOME WAY.**_

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Chapter 01:

Patricia Taylor stood up from the table, her hands on her hips, annoyed and frustrated. Her husband for almost four years, Will Turner, was across said table his arms crossed in front of his chest, frowning. Her husband... So that would mean Patricia Taylor was really Patricia Turner, now wouldn't it? Had she not been agitated, Patricia would have smiled at the memory that she was indeed Will Turner's wife, through and through, but she WAS agitated.

"I can't believe you cheated," Will spat out. "Cheat! How could you cheat!"

"I did NOT cheat, William," Patricia said rolling her eyes. "I was simply... Getting what I wanted." She grinned and took a step back from the table.

"Getting what YOU wanted? Don't _I_ get a say in this?"

"You know what Will? You don't! It's my body. I do what I shall with it."

"YOUR body! If I remember correctly that body is owned by two people now. And Jack! Does it have to be JACK! Of all the men in the world!"

"I happen to like Jack... In fact, I WANT Jack. Trust me, Will. The past eight months have been something of a hell for me and in ALL reality, it's YOUR fault I've been so damn miserable. Well, guess what? For once, I get what I want, and I want Jack. It's simply your own problem if you can't deal with it," Patricia huffed. Will stood up desperately, taking a hold of her hands and pressing them to his chest.

"Patricia... please," Will begged. "Anyone... AnyTHING but Jack... I wouldn't have a care in the world what you did... Just NOT Jack..." Patricia reached up on her tiptoes and kissed Will lightly on the lips before releasing her hands and stepping away in the direction of the door.

"I'm sorry, Will." She smiled at him, complacently, putting her hands on her hips "I want Jack... and that's how it'll be."


	2. II

Chapter 02:

Patricia tried to walk away but the ship suddenly lurched under their feet. Will caught Patricia by the waist before she could fall and pulled her to him gently. Patricia just threw her head back and laughed at how serious Will's face actually looked.

"Three things... First, you must be more careful when you strut about. Second is that I refuse to name my first son Jack. ANYTHING but Jack... For god's sake, we can name him Banlu if you wanted! Just. Not. Jack." Patricia just smirked up at him.

"If our child is a boy, he will be called Jack. I don't care what you say and the third?" Patricia giggled, ignoring his glare.

"I'm not playing anymore stupid board games or hand games to decide what to name our children ESPECIALLY since you cheat!" Will growled. Patricia would've been afraid of that look but his hands had traveled to her stomach and caressed it softly.

"I don't cheat, sir," Patricia repeated, her smile silently mocking him.

"Oh yes... you were merely getting what you wanted?" he repeated her words from moments before. Will's hands traveled around her rather large waist and pulled her gently against his body. His eyes had darkened several shades, if that was at all possible and his voice dropped several octaves. His lips fell on hers kissing her softly, before pulling back. "And what, may I ask, do you want now, love?"

"Unfortunately, it's the one thing we both REALLY REALLY want but can't have," she murmured, before returning his kiss then pulling away, smiling apologetically. "Not to mention, it makes me nauseous on a boat."

"That's funny since I remember that our first dozen rounds in the sack was on a boat," he growled. "I didn't hear you complain then."

"I wasn't pregnant then, Will, my love," she retorted. "And the midwives said we can't be together so soon before I give birth. They said it would probably be once we land in Port Royal remember?"

Will groaned stepping back to the couch and burying his head on a pillow. "What do those midwives know, huh? They have to be lying when they tell me I can't be with my own wife when she's at her most beautiful! I'm telling you right now: they're lying!"

"I'm sorry, Will but I think I'll trust the women who've HAD children," she laughed sitting beside him, her hand running down his back. "Odette's had three and Marietta was pregnant with her own FOURTH bundle of joy. If they tell me I can't make love in my last month of pregnancy, then I won't." Will looked up at her, almost begging with his eyes causing her laughter to increase in volume. "... EVEN if my husband is buttering me up with false beauty compliments and using tricks my dog employs to get treats."

"Fine," Will sighed in defeat. He leaned to the back of the chair and pulled onto his wife until she sat in the most comfortable and closest position he could get her in: with him lying back and Patricia sitting between his legs, leaning into him carefully.

"This is fine by us though... right?" Patricia replied, uncertainly.

Truth be told, ever since her fifth month of pregnancy, she was beginning to feel more and more insecure around Will. Her growing stomach was making her feel fat and large and a bit like the whales she'd seen off the boat on their trip back to the Caribbean. She knew that her body couldn't handle the exertion of making love with Will. _And there WAS a lot of exertion of energy when it came to making love with her husband sometimes..._ she thought slyly, running a hand up his arm. She knew that this state was only temporary and that the post-partum release of all that energy would be particularly explosive but the fear that he'd leave her for one of the more beautiful, slender, attractive and capable women still stewed in back of her mind.

"It's perfect, Tricia," Will whispered into her ear. His hand ran down her arm, intertwining his fingers with hers from the back of her hand, smiling at the warmth the simple gold bands he had made emitted when they touched. "It wasn't false compliments, though... What I said earlier? For some strange reason... the larger this becomes..." He took their left hands and put them on her womb. "The more beautiful you seem to be to me..."

"Liar," she chuckled.

"I do not lie, my love..." Will replied. His lips planted small kisses on her cheeks slowly drawing closer to her lips. The effect was making her blood rush... She felt herself grow warmer and his hands were roaming again.

"Will, we can't..." she gasped.

"Okay, Odette said we can't make love, right?" Will asked, whispering into her neck.

"Yes..." Patricia sighed.

"As in I can't actually be inside you, because we might hurt little Will?" Will asked, grinning.

"Jack... little Jack," she murmured. He rolled his eyes quickly before setting himself up to task again.

"Well, how about we learn just how creative we can get, eh love?" Will smiled as she saw her eyes daze at the prospect of being with her husband again.

Patricia looked up at Will as she put away the forgotten cards and games they were playing with before. He was splayed over the sofa, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Can't you help any?" Patricia asked, throwing a chess piece at her husband's head.

"No, thank you," Will grinned. "I'd rather just watch."

"Lazy!" She threw a rook at his head and it bounced to the floor.

"Hey! You can hurt someone like that you know!" Will cried out, standing up and lunging at Patricia.

"Whatever you say," she laughed, stepping away. Will's evil smile began to grow as he began to stalk Patricia around their living room when a knock from the front door ruined their playful moods. She was about to go to the door when Will grabbed her dress and pulled her away.

"Leave it," Will said softly, kissing her again but the bell rung again.

"In a bit… It's probably someone who'll leave if I ask them to…" she murmured, reluctantly stepping to the door again. She opened the door with a smile and a boy, their helper and escort for the trip, looked up at her.

"The cap'n says he sees the land just some miles off starboard, ma'am," Frances announced. "He says to be readying your things for going ashore."

"Thank you." She closed the door again and grinned at Will. "We're in the Caribbean again!" Patricia ran to the windows to the right of the ship and true enough, she saw the faint line of land on the horizon. "Hopefully, we're not wanted criminals, eh?"


	3. III

Chapter 03:

Will and Patricia were relieved to see that after almost four years away, Port Royal's people had changed and that few people would remember their faces. They had asked the men at the port to see if the Norringtons still resided on their seaside bluff and after an affirmation, they rented a carriage to take them there.

Patricia was in awe of what she's missed. Though Southampton had proven itself to be a worthy place to settle, Port Royal was still home. She missed the warmth and the smell and the fruits that was laid out on the floor, ripe and firm at the same time. The colors were different from the grays and browns of England. In Port Royal, everything was vibrant in hue. It seemed like everything was glowing and as she stared, Patricia felt the kick of her baby in her stomach.

"Yes, love. This is home," she murmured.

"Did he kick?" Will asked when he saw Patricia's hand move to her stomach.

"He knows that we're somewhere different."

However, as the carriage went up the incline to the Norringtons' mansion, Patricia's happiness began to make way for nervous anxiety. Will felt Patricia's tension and understood a bit of where it was coming from. He hadn't seen Elizabeth in years and he wondered if their friendship, or what little friendship they maintained, would be enough to warrant a surprise visit from them.

Patricia knew that Will was thinking about Elizabeth and she wondered if the time apart helped Will forget all remnants of the beautiful governor's daughter. She wondered if Elizabeth aged to an ugly haggard woman or did she age gracefully? Patricia felt her old jealousy bubble and she hoped for the former.

In any case, Patricia thought as she stepped off the carriage, I shall have to ask the doorman as to how Elizabeth is doing beforehand. That way I'll be ready.

Will knocked on the door with his right hand as his left hand gripped Patricia's.

Patricia expected the old doorman to answer as the door swung open but the person in front of her made her falter in composure and in plans.

Patricia's insecurities came rushing back suddenly. It seemed like it was the effect this person had on her. All she could think of was that in that four years, this person hadn't changed even in the most minute detail. Still the tall, elegant, slender, most beautiful woman she'd ever set eyes on… She just realized that her stomach was massive to the one this woman proudly boasted in the tight corset and she prayed that she was having twins just to justify her sheer size.

"Will! Patricia!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "You're here!…" Her eyes looked at Patricia and her jaw dropped. "You're pregnant!"

Patricia didn't know how to answer that so she looked helplessly at Will.

"Elizabeth. Wonderful to see you," Will smiled gently.

"And to see you, of course!" Elizabeth said. She stepped aside to let Patricia and Will through. All the while she couldn't take her eyes off of Patricia's stomach. "Patricia, I can't believe you're with child! How far along are you?"

"Eight... eight and a half months. The baby is due in a few weeks," Patricia murmured with quiet pride.

"Unbelievable. My goodness, pregnancy suits you!" Elizabeth ushered some servants to help with the bags and then stepped up to embrace Patricia. "You look beautiful!"

"Th... thank you," Patricia said softly, blushing. Elizabeth led them into a sitting room and started conversing happily as if she hadn't had company in years.

"Well, it doesn't matter how long you two are staying. I insist that you stay with us."

"Really, Elizabeth… We don't want to be a burden…" Will began but was interrupted.

"Nonsense. Your bags are probably already in their rooms. I wouldn't leave you to some third class suite in town especially with Patricia in her condition. You will be here." Elizabeth was so adamant that Will couldn't have said no if he really wanted too.

"Well, then thank you… I guess."

"Will, it's so wonderful to see you both."

"And you as well. You look good," Will said before sitting down next to his wife. His hand instinctively rested on the roundness of Patricia's stomach and just his touch sent her mind a bit of reassurance that the thoughts of Elizabeth becoming the heart of Will's affections again would never happen.

"Unfortunately, not as beautiful as Patricia. Being with child seems to treat her very well," Elizabeth said. Her eyes clouded for a moment, and when Patricia glanced at Will, she was sure she was the only one to notice but she was sure it was there. Just like before, female intuition told her that something was wrong with Elizabeth.

"Is something wrong?" Patricia spoke up and Elizabeth just looked at her, shrugging.

"Nothing at all," Elizabeth sighed.

"Is the Commodore about?" Will asked politely.

"No, he's on his way to England. Some sort of whoop de doo about his accomplishments," she said proudly. She turned to Patricia. "I kept my promise to you. James lets me be. I think he's afraid that I'll run away and become a pirate but truthfully, I think I'm happy. I come and go as I please under the condition that I stay faithful which of course I do."

"I'm glad," Patricia replied genuinely.

"How long will you be staying then?" Elizabeth asked.

"Does two months sound too imposing?" Patricia answered, hopefully.

"Not at all," Elizabeth said, picking a cup of tea up to his lips. "So how are you doing? Besides the whole-going-to-be-parents factor, of course. Is your business doing well, Will?"

"Actually, it is. It's why we're here. My goods are now being asked for in the Caribbean and I'm here to scout business. Patricia wanted to tag along to see the old haunt," Will said proudly. "Tricia and I live on the second and third floor of a building that we own. The first floor is the store. I have an apprentice working under me and I have two others who work for me." His hand reached out for Patricia's again subconsciously, grasping it in his as they sat down on a love seat and Elizabeth sat across. "Life is going EXTREMELY well for us." Will turned and smiled at Patricia, who smiled at him in return.

"Ugh! You two are still disgustingly in love, I see," Elizabeth laughed. "I don't even need to ask how many times you two have been separated! I already know it's either a day or less."

"Three days, I'd have you know," Patricia replied, haughtily. "He had to go to Portsmouth for some order and..." Patricia's mouth snapped shut, her hand suddenly gripping his, her blush growing. If memory served her correctly, that trip was made almost eight months ago as well. The separation had proven to be a VERY powerful aphrodisiac, resulting in their absence from the outside world for almost the same amount of time that he was gone. The sly grin on Patricia's face told Elizabeth everything she needed.

"I don't even want to know," she smirked.

"Let's just say that repercussions of that day are still to be dealt with."

"I told you!" Elizabeth shrieked "I didn't want to know!"

"Actually, Elizabeth, I'm actually quite grateful that you've invited us to stay here," Will said interrupting the two women.

"Pardon?"

"Yes. Well, I really don't want to but there's so much to be done here in Port Royal for the next few weeks. I have to leave to other parts of the island and I don't want Tricia traveling when she's so ready to give birth," Will explained.

"You're still going!" Patricia interceded, surprised. "You told me you weren't!"

"Tricia, I _have _to go. There's no way out of it, unfortunately."

"Will, you promised you'd stay in Port Royal until our child comes," she whined.

"I know, and I'm sorry I have to break that promise but you know Jillian. He refuses to talk to anyone but myself. He's one of our primary patrons here and I can't lose him. If I don't come at our appointment next week, he'll surely replace us."

Patricia just pursed her lips and nodded. It seemed like she accepted the inconvenience of it all but Elizabeth noticed that Patricia's hand slipped from Will's.

"I'm sure he'll be here for the birth, Patricia. How long will you be gone?"

"Two days at the most," Will replied.

"See? What are the chances that the birth will be inside that small space of time?" Elizabeth said, trying to ease the tension.

_She doesn't get it,_ Patricia thought. _It's not him being here that actually gets to me, not that that's not important. I'll castrate him if he's not here when our baby arrives. But he promised. He promised and now he intends to break it._ She sighed and looked up.

"Of course," she murmured. "I'm just having a bit of a fit." Will's arm snaked around her waist and Elizabeth smiled, satisfied at her answer.


	4. IV

**Chapter 4:**

"Well, I'm off. You sure you're not up for some shopping?" Elizabeth asked tying her hat's ribbon beneath her chin at the mirror. Patricia was at a chair and desk, her feet propped up on another chair. In front of her was a notebook and an ink bottle while she held a quill in the air, thinking.

"Shopping? In Port Royal? Oh, I missed that… but wait… does that involve walking?"

"Ummm, Yes?" Elizabeth answered unsurely.

"Then, uhhh, no," Patricia replied. "Have you even SEEN my feet lately?"

"No, why?" Elizabeth laughed.

"Well, neither have I but they are in a LOT of pain even when I just STAND," Patricia explained. "I'd rather not make you go through my whining and bad moods for the rest of the day." Elizabeth laughed again and put a hand on Patricia's shoulder sympathetically.

"Then the least I can do is ask what you might want, since _I am _your host."

"Umm... Sweets. I want sweets," Patricia grinned. "Sweets and chocolate biscuits? That is the one thing Will refuses to let me indulge in. I'm glad I'm due in a week or so...I'm going to throttle him if I don't get any sugar soon."

"Will is going to throttle ME if I let you have sweets!"

"Fine... Sweet fruits please? I missed that as well," she pouted, looking at her book again.

"Good, sweet fruits it is," Elizabeth finalized before heading out to the door. "Are you sure you'll be all right alone?"

"Don't worry about me. You have your many servants and maids on my every beck and call," Patricia said shooing Elizabeth away with one hand but not looking up. "And either way, Will is coming up in about an hour. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked biting her lip, still standing at the open doorway.

"Yes! Now get out and get me something to eat, Elizabeth Norrington!"

Elizabeth chuckled and shut the door, then walked down the stairs where one of the men her husband had kept as her escort was waiting for her.

"Ready to leave, Mrs. Norrington?" Andrew asked, offering his hand as a gentleman would. Elizabeth paused for a second, waiting to hear for some sort of distressing sound from upstairs.

"Yes," she answered when none came. "Let's go then."

* * *

Patricia dipped the quill and began to jot down names. One column was devoted to female names while the other was devoted to names for males. She REALLY wasn't going to name her son 'Jack'. Not that she didn't like the name; it's just that she loved her husband a little more to let him have his wish... and he was so... determined at swaying her to his way of seeing things, she grinned. Patricia tilted for a moment as she thought about just HOW determined her husband was and then circled a name in each column. 

However, she was pulled out of her fantasies abruptly and her hand clutched at her belly in pain. She waited for something else to happen but now the pain receded and the pain was just a memory but her body remembered it well.

Suddenly, it was hot and she was restless. Throwing the book on the table, she stood up with a grunt and made for the stand where a pitcher was kept for her convenience. She suddenly felt a dizzy and she felt exhausted. Patricia knew something was terribly wrong. Her hand clutched a glass and quickly filled it with cool water, hoping that the moisture could fix whatever it was that was ailing her but the water did nothing to relieve her of the heat.

The pain shot through her again and surprised her, making her drop the glass. This time it didn't recede and began to throb and now something splashed under her.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God," Patricia cursed, her eyes widening. "No... No..."

It's too early... It's too bloody early! And Will isn't here... and holy shit... I'm about to have a baby and where the hell is Will?

Patricia doubled over to the floor, clutching her belly for dear life, the involuntary tears of pain making their way out of her eyes. She grabbed the leg of a chair and banged it against the floor.

"Help!" she yelled.

**Will had just finished surveying the shops in town and was talking to some men about establishish contracts.**

"**We've liked your products so far, Mr. Turner: sturdy and reliable. My company will be more than happy to make you one of our primary suppliers," Anderson Wallace said.**

"**I've very happy to hear that," Will smiled. "If we can make an appointment now as to when we want to have our agreement in writing…"**

"**Of course," Mr. Wallace agreed. They set a date to meet again and Will turned to board his carriage but he was shoved to the side by several older men, all running towards the shore.**

"**Sorry, sir. Beg your pardon," one of them shouted back as he clutched his bag to himself.**

**Will turned to his colleague who had a genuine look of concern in his face as he stared after then men.**

"**I wonder who could be in such dire need of help," Mr. Wallace wondered aloud.**

"**Who were those men?"**

"**Doctors… Some of the best in Port Royal," Mr. Wallace replied. "Someone must be dying. I wonder who."**

"**Well, that's a bit of a morbid thing to wonder, isn't it?" Will chuckled but he was ignored. Mr. Wallace was squinting and looking still to the horizon.**

"**Looks like they're headed towards the governor's mansion…"**

"**What?" Will reeled back and saw that he was correct. The only thing that went through his head was that Patricia was in that mansion and could be that person that Anderson Wallace was morbidly wondering about.**

"Will!" Patricia screamed banging the floor with the chair leg again. She started to sob, wanting the pain that was shooting from where she knew the baby was all the way to her opening to just stop... and now her chest felt constricted. She wanted to take deeper breaths but found that her heart was being gripped like a vice.

She suddenly felt herself being carried onto the bed in the next room. Her head still felt as heavy as a cannon ball but she was vaguely aware of the chaos that was building around her.

"Get the doctors!"

"They're on their way…"

"Someone close that door and open those windows!"

"Let's take off this dress."

"Oh god… There's so much blood…"

* * *

"Patricia..." Will muttered as he wrung his hands. The carriage was bumbling up the hill and all he could think of was his wife. On the top by the house, he could see a line of carriages and the sheer number of people scrambling about was enough to make his stress level escalate further. 

The moment the carriage stopped, Will ran into the house, bursting into it screaming his wife's name. "Patricia!"

"Will," she sobbed, answering his call when she heard it through the walls. Will came into the top hall, cursing under his breath as he ran into their room. He ignored the protests against his presence as he knelt down beside her bed.

"I'm here now, sweetheart... I've got you," he murmured. He winced as he observed her harsh breathing, the wet dress, and look of pain on her face. "Tricia? Tricia-love, what happened?"

"I... can't... breathe," Patricia gasped, gripping Will's hand in hers. "Heart... hurts..."

"It's all right... I'm right here," Will murmured putting his forehead to hers. He was trying to calm her but he felt his own panic begin to set in. "Just... hold on, all right?"

Patricia's eyes shut but she nodded. Will turned to the doctors who were mumbling to themselves and to the maid, Lucinda. He had gotten a blanket and used a corner to wipe away the sweat that poured from her brow. It was the only thing he could do before he broke down into a heap of helplessness and desperation.

"... You were right, Lucinda," an old male voice said. It was the local physician, Joseph Landau.

"What's going on?" Will asked confused. Lucinda took Will by the arm and led him about three meters from his wife so that the doctor could have a look.

"Poisoned blood, Mr. Turner," Lucinda murmured, letting the doctors and Landau care for Patricia whose breath was getting shallower by the moment. "Disease of those with child... It happens quite suddenly... The heart of the woman is rushed by the bad blood but she doesn't realize it. The baby does, though, and wants to get out all quick-like." Will turned to his wife, suddenly becoming fainter. "Then when the baby tells the mother it wants to be birthed, the mother realizes what happened to her heart... It's awful painful, sir, least what I heard.

"We can give something to her for the pain, Mr. Turner," Lucinda added, opening her hand to reveal a dollop of sticky brown opium. Will stared at the drug, tentatively, then at his wife. He saw her face contort in pain, her fist gripping the sheets.

"Give it to her," he said, nodding his permission. She took the opium and put in some juice, pouring it into Patricia's mouth. In minutes, Patricia relaxed and her eyes unfocused. Her sobs diminished and she limped into the bed like a rag doll.

"She doesn't feel a thing, Turner," Landau said, answering the question in Will's eyes.

"How do you heal her?" Will asked, bluntly.

"Your wife's condition is complicated," Landau sighed. "If she does not give birth within the next two hours, she will inevitably die in the same time given..."

"How long does birth usually take?"

"Since she is a first-time mother?" Will nodded, afraid of the answer. "13 to 14 hours..." Will dropped to his knees beside the bed again and his head into Patricia's flaccid hand.

"So there's no saving her, is there?" Will murmured.

"No..." Lucinda answered sadly.

* * *

Patricia is suffering from a complication that I loosely based Preeclampsia and Thrombophilia. Look em up.

If you know someone who's pregnant, make sure they're going to the doctor regularly. Complications aren't uncommon and we haven't come so far into medicine only to have those who could benefit from it not use it. Prenatal care is a biggie.


	5. V

Chapter 05: 

"Well, I've heard of ONE way..." Frances said softly from the doorway, where he watched without being taken notice of.

"No, there isn't," Landau snapped, a bit peeved that this boy would even suggest such. "There is no way to save this woman.

"Um... In a book. The missus lets me borrow from her library," the boy explained. Will looked up at Patricia, whose eyes were still unfocused. "A man... A doctor, actually... His wife was in the same position the missus is in. He remembered a story about Julius Caesar, sir. Caesar's mum also had the problem so they cut her stomach and got the baby then stitched her back up like it was nothing... Why don't you do that? I mean, those two women lived through it."

"That's preposterous!" Landau exclaimed. "That is the most absurd idea I've ever heard of! That woman will surely die if I attempted that procedure!"

"Didn't you say she would surely die if we don't get our baby out?" Will murmured. Landau turned to Will and frowned.

"Well, yes but..." Landau didn't really know how to argue to that comment. "But Mr. Turner, you couldn't possibly consider such a procedure. I've never even heard of it; much less know how to go about PERFORMING it on a person."

"Can you call the surgeon?" Will interrupted, ignoring Landau's protests. The other less assertive doctors shook their heads and looked at each other dismayed at the idea.

"He's having tea at the Fiddler's, sir," Lucinda answered. "I'll call for him." With that she left.

"Mr. Turner, I do NOT recommend this process... You will surely lose her!"

Will stayed silent for a moment, pondering the physician's words. If he didn't allow this operation, Patricia would die... probably along with their child... He loses them both. If he does allow it, Patricia still might die... But there was a chance she could make it... And if they get to their child in time...

"Dr. Landau, I've got everything or nothing to lose," Will said firmly, standing up against the well-learned man. Landau pursed his lips and nodded his head, knowing that even if he didn't like the idea he had to do what he could for Patricia Turner.

"I still say that this is the wrong direction to go about things," Landau sighed. Silence befell them and it wasn't long until Lucinda and the surgeon, James Morris, were coming up the stairs. Morris had his surgeon's bag and came in.

"I'm needed? What's wrong, Joseph?" Morris asked, seeing the frown in his colleague's face.

"We're asked to pull the babe out through an incision," Landau replied.

"Oh! A caesarian section, then?" Morris smiled, putting his hands together and rubbing them eagerly. "Don't get to do THIS very often."

"You've heard of it?"

"Of course, I have! Done it a few times, given I'm one of the few that can... Now where is that scalpel..." Landau sat back, wide-eyed. "You, boy..." Frances came up, grinning, thinking that it might be because of him that his master's wife would survive. "Boiling water and some towels..." He nodded and ran while Morris continued rummaging through his bag and taking out a pair of gloves, a scalpel and a thread and needle.

"Will it work?" Will asked, still holding Patricia's hand.

"As well as we can hope or as bad as we can fear."

"Your confidence in your own work reassures me, Mr. Morris," Will said sarcastically. "I want to know if I'll have a family when you complete the surgery."

"That, Mr. Turner, is entirely up to God," Morris answered. "Now, if you'll so kindly leave in peace and in my work..." Frances was coming up with a pot of steaming water and an armful of towels.

"What! Can't I stay!" Will protested but he was already being dragged away by Frances who had put the pot down and was being told to shoo as well.

"Mr. Turner, sir... We'd be nothing but a bother in there," Frances said soothingly. "Just breathe and let the physicians do what they can for your wife..."

Will nodded and dropped down into the desk chair, propping his elbows on the table and dropping his head in agitation. His knee was bouncing, restlessly, and he found his ears pricking up at slightest sound from the room.

"You should relax, Mr. Turner," Frances advised from his seat on the couch. He had a book on his lap and was smiling calmly at his master.

"How can I relax?" Will snapped, angrily. "My wife is at death's door! I can lose her AND my first born on one fell swoop and you ask me to relax!" His angry face suddenly softened and shook his head wearily. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to yell at you... In fact, I should be on my knees thanking you for bringing up the subject of the surgery... If you hadn't been there..." Will looked away, not wanting to think about those consequences.

"I know, Mr. Turner," Frances nodded, still smiling brightly. "But I'm sure the missus would have been saved otherwise... I mean... well, I hope you don't mind but the missus told me a bit of her adventures here with you... But anyway, I would really think that after all that hubbub with the natives; I don't think pregnancy would be the death of her."

"You're right... Absolutely right..." Will tried to reassure himself as well as the boy did, but, truth was, he was still scared beyond death. He couldn't help but marvel at Frances, however.

A boy of about fifteen or sixteen, Frances McKinnott taught himself his numbers and letters finding that he had a natural talent with them. Not being very strong physically, his intellectual talents were almost led to waste when Will had come to find him in the Southampton docks trying to get a job. Will hired him immediately when he learned that Frances could work with numbers well... and now the boy was neither homeless and a slight less than the orphan he used to be; Frances had managed to rent a flat some streets up the town, and connected with Patricia. He was always visiting her and reading with her... and Patricia found him easy company, since she wasn't that much older... Maybe only by four years... Will had a feeling that Frances might be harboring some unsolicited feelings towards his wife but Will brushed it aside. He knew Frances to be loyal enough to never betray his trust and was secure that Patricia loved him and wouldn't leave him. It was one of the many reasons that they had agreed on letting him come with them to the Caribbean.

Time had gone by like an eternity. Will never realized that the ticks of the grandfather clock and the dead silence of the house could be so stifling and maddening. However, Frances hadn't even budged from his stone-silent position at the sofa.

He needed some peace of mind but he could find so little of it in the stretched seconds that passed him. He looked down at the table and saw the discarded quill, open inkbottle and notebook left by Patricia awhile ago. Will's fingers flipped through the pages and found the newest entry. It was the list of names... He grinned slightly, noticing that 'Jack' was absent from the long list. His fingers went down the female list and ticked off the ones he immediately disliked.

"Antigone… Clytemnestra… Electra… That's it… I'm banning her from Greek mythology from now on…" he muttered, crossing away the names. "I'm not naming my daughter after some tragic heroine…" He went down and found one that Patricia had circled. "Annalee… Hmm…"

Then he went down the boy's list. "No to Alvis… No to Frey… No to Odin… No to Loki… Note to self, throw out all Norse mythology books as well…" His hand kept striking at the names until he finally got to some he liked… "Jordan… I like… Michael…" Patricia's circled name leaped at him and…

"Mr. Turner?" Lucinda called from the door. Will was terrified of looking up, knowing that the woman's expression would be the gauge to what the outcome was. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest when he saw the smile on her face. It was then that he could actually make out the muffled crying of a baby from the room.

"Is she.. She's… Please tell me that Patricia's…"

"Patricia's… Well at least, she SHOULD be fine…" Lucinda sighed in relief,

"Can I see her?"

"Not her quite yet… The doctors are still finishing up but your son is up for some visitors," Lucinda answered from the doorway, holding a little bundle. Will stood up, knocking the table and spilling the ink but he didn't even notice the black ink spilling on the wood. He strode to his son, his eyes wide with both terror and anticipation.

"Son?" Will stammered.

"Son…" Lucinda smiled, placing the crying little boy in his arms. As Will's arms grasped around the little life, he grinned and the boy began to quiet. "Any idea to a name?"

Will forced his eyes up to her and noticed that Frances was cleaning up the mess he had made at the table. The ink was everywhere and Frances' fingers were darkening from the solution. He smiled apologetically at Frances and the younger man just shrugged. Will's eyes found the paper and he smiled.

"Aidan… I want to name him Aidan…" Will smiled, knowing that Patricia had chosen the name as well.

"Aidan, he is, then," Lucinda replied.


	6. VI

_**MAJOR EDIT NOTE: BECAUSE I WAS SERIOUSLY CONFUSED ABOUT THE COMPASS AND ITS ACTUAL WORKINGS, I'VE HAD TO REWORK THE WHOLE STORY. NOW WITH DMC COMING OUT AND THE COMPASS'S TRUE NATURE IS FINALLY CONFIRMED, COME BACK TO HAUNT ME IS AGAIN ACTIVE AND I CAN FINALLY WRITE. ALL I CAN SAY IS DAMN COMPASS. PISSES ME OFF THAT THING. PLEASE RE-READ ALL THE CHAPTERS SINCE EVERYTHING IS TWEAKED IN A MAJOR WAY.**_

**Chapter 06:**

Elizabeth arrived into the stone silent mansion, feeling the tension almost immediately. It was long after sunset. The moon had risen high above the ocean and the stars were already out. She had just arrived from her day in the markets and she was well on her way to exhaustion. On her way up, however, she had encountered too many worried glances and stares. She saw the doctors' carriages coming down from the hill and she knew something terrible must have occurred.

"Tricia?" Silence greeted her and her worry increased. "Will?"

Andrew dropped the bags he carried, forcing himself to smile as he thought about what his feet must look like now in the condition he felt them to be in. He quickly ran off to the servants' quarters, ready to get to his room and just rest.

Elizabeth was now alone in the grand hall looking around at the eerie silence around her.

"Miss Swann?"

Elizabeth's head shot around at the strange, new voice. A woman was standing at the top of the stairs, smiling timidly.

"I really must ask you to be quiet. The Turners are taking their rest."

"They're sleeping?"

"Not quite… Just resting really."

"May I ask who you are?"

"Oh.. of course. We haven't been introduced. My name is Lucinda. I'm one of the midwives from town."

Elizabeth's head nodded in acknowledgement. "Midwife? Is Patricia all right?"

"Should be." Lucinda smiled, secretively, and started down the stairs. "I was just finishing cleaning up the glass. You should go up to the nursery. They're in there."

Elizabeth put down the silks after briefly thanking her. She hurried up the stairs and opened the door to the nursery without hesitation. Then, halted…

"Oh…" Elizabeth remarked, her eyes widening. "I knew that I was in the queues in the market for what seemed like half my life… But… wow… I didn't know I've been gone THIS long…"

Will looked up from the rocking chair, holding Aidan in his arms. His smile was tired but Elizabeth could see that there was genuine happiness in his eyes. Had she been there earlier, she would have probably seen it at its most hyperactive but now it was retired.

"Will…" Elizabeth strode down to Will and knelt beside him, brushing the dark fuzz on top of the child's head. "Will… He's beautiful."

"I would like to think my son is near perfect…" Will quipped.

"His name?"

"Aidan," Will smiled proudly. "Aidan William Turner." Will's eyes smiled at the baby's gentle nuzzling into the soft, worn cotton of a blanket, Aidan's eyes opening slightly and then closing again.

"Will… My goodness, Aidan, you're such an adorable little boy." Her glance turned to Will's. "His hair is darker than yours, I think. So are his eyes… Those are definitely Tricia's… But I think otherwise he looks like you."

"I would hope so…"

Suddenly, Elizabeth frowned. "Where's Patricia?"

This caused a darker change in mood. Will slumped back into his chair, seeming to age with past worry. "You missed quite a day, Elizabeth."

"Is she all right?"

"yes… yes, she is now."

"What happened?"

Will sighed and just shook his head. "Too much in too little time… All I know is that I could have lost them… I seriously could have lost them both."

Elizabeth saw the gentle and subtle way that Will tightened his hold on Aidan and smiled, sympathetically though she knew nothing about what went on.

"What happened?" Elizabeth repeated.

"Nothing, nothing important anymore… I don't care for it… And forgive me if I don't want to repeat and relive it anytime soon…" Will tilted his head to the moon's glow and the candle's light. Elizabeth wanted to reach out and just hold Will. He looked like he needed a friend just then. Just someone to hold him as he cried. It looked like he was hanging on by a string being pulled so taut that it was near snapping.

"Of course… Will, you should be with Patricia then. You should sleep…" Elizabeth murmured, squeezing Will's hand as he turned his gaze towards her again.

"I want to stay with Aidan…"

"Aidan won't do well if his father is dead on his arse… And from what I can surmise, Patricia isn't in a state to care for a child at the moment, so go… I'll get to know Aidan a little," Elizabeth coerced, reaching out to hold Aidan herself.

"If you're sure, Elizabeth…"

"I am." Will smiled at her and kissed Aidan softly on his forehead, then half-heartedly gave his son to Elizabeth.

"Call me if you need me… And Lucinda should be downstairs if there's anything else you might need help with…"

"Of course… Now get some rest."

Will nodded and had one last look at Aidan before heading down the hall towards his own room. The bloody blankets were cleaned and disposed of. The mattress was changed, having been spoiled beyond further use. Patricia was under the covers, her eyes half-closed as she stared at the doorway, waiting for Will to enter.

"You're awake," Will murmured, sitting on his side of the bed.

"I've been waiting for you to return… I was hoping with Aidan…"

"He's with Elizabeth. She said I needed to rest… So do you in fact."

"It hurts too much to sleep," Patricia said truthfully, referring to the incision on her lower belly, now wrapped in white bandages. "I'll just lie here for awhile, until exhaustion overrides the pain." Her hand reached out for his and he immediately held her fingers in his palm, and lay down beside her, his head buried at her shoulder. "Will?"

"I can't believe I almost lost you… again."

"Yes, well… Can't get rid of me that easily…" she joked, her other hand stroking his hair.

"You know what was the hardest part in this whole day?"

"What?"

"After the surgery… I came in to see you… Everything… everywhere… there was just so much blood and you were out cold and all I could see was you lying in the dirt… Remember?"

"All too well…"

"That was all I saw, love…"

"But both ended well, don't you think?"

"Don't you think it's time to stop trying to make light of things?" Will snapped.

"I'm sorry," Patricia sighed. "But I merely don't want to dwell on it…" She yawned and leaned her head against her husband's. "Don't be mad. I'm just… I want to look at the bright side of things… Otherwise, I'd just fall into my own madness and that wouldn't be very nice."

"I'm not mad. I'm just tired. And a little depressed…"

"Which is bad," Patricia smiled. "Don't you think?"

"Yes. It's bad."

Will watched as Patricia closed her eyes and wondered briefly how she was saved from certain death yet again.

"You most definitely have a guardian angel, my love. You shouldn't be alive right now, otherwise."

"You're my guardian angel, silly monkey," Patricia giggled.

"I love you…"

"Love you too…"

"Good night…"

"Good night, Will… Now quiet. I think I can finally ignore the pain…"

"Sorry…"

"Shh.."

* * *

_AN: As always! Please review! If you find some discrepancies from the current plot, please don't hesitate to tell me. If something is left from the old plot PLEASE tell me. lol. _


	7. VII

Chapter 07:

One Week Later 

"Will," Elizabeth hissed, amidst the morning fog and murmur of the sea. "I can't believe you."

"Can't believe what?" Will oversaw the handling of crates into coaches, ready to take to Kettle Bay.

"Your _wife_ is bedridden!" she shrieked. "She has just survived a surgery that she_ really_ shouldn't have! Your _son_ is a mere week old! And you're leaving?"

"I don't have a choice," Will repeated. This was a conversation he'd been having with Elizabeth all week. He did his best to keep Patricia's ears from hearing it but Elizabeth's anger became progressively harder to contain. "It's not like I want to leave Aidan or Patricia. Not like this!"

"Then don't!"

"Jillian Marcus is our most lucrative patron… Everything we could want, we have because of him. You could even say that it was his payments that funded our trip here! One of the reasons for that he keeps us is because I adhere to _all_ his conditions, even those conditions that break my heart because I have to Patricia and now Aidan. I keep my promises, Elizabeth."

"How about your promise to Patricia? The promise that you'd be here for Aidan…"

"The promise was that I'd stay until Aidan comes. He's come… The promise is fulfilled." Will looked around and began to count the crates once more to make sure that all of the goods were present. He knew that his retort was shady at best. He knew that that promise was meant for not only Aidan's birth but Aidan's first few weeks.

"You _know_ that wasn't the point of that promise…"

"Fine!" Will snapped whirling at Elizabeth. "Do you want the truth? The truth is I _do _have two promises and I can only fill one… but Jillian's is the one that if I break it, I have more to lose." Elizabeth's mouth dropped in disbelief. "He supports us! I can't let that go… I can't!"

"You selfish little bastard…" Elizabeth murmured. "Jillian's money over your wife's love and your son… Just _who_ are you because you are _nothing_ like the Will Turner I knew before…"

"If I don't leave soon, Jillian won't be at the warehouse when I get there…" Will shook his head, ignoring her.

"And what will you do if Patricia and Aidan aren't here when _you _return?" Elizabeth asked.

"Just _what_ is that supposed to mean?" Will turned to Elizabeth angrily.

"Nothing…" Elizabeth crossed her arms and glared at Will, who was now boarding his carriage. "It was a hypothetical question…"

"Either way, it doesn't matter. They'll be here… That's another reason… Jillian won't be there if I break my contract with him… Patricia will always be here… And when I return, she might be furious at me but she'll understand that this is for us…" Will closed his eyes, dejectedly. "I'll see you in a few days…"

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye to your wife?"

"It'll only tire her if we begin arguing over this and if you're any indication, we _will_ be fighting over this…"

"Unbelievable…" Elizabeth muttered. "Go…" She stomped away and disappeared at the stairs, so angry that Will could mistake the fog for the steam from her body. He shook his head.

"All ready, Garrett…" The man nodded, looking down. "All right… let's go."

Elizabeth knew the promises of businessmen. Her husband may be a commodore but it was a business in itself to handle the Caribbean fleet. There would only be avowals that they would return within a day but a week would pass and nothing would have returned except for a letter explaining a delay. She never expected such a thing to happen but Will had turned into that kind of businessman and she was so disappointed with that turn of event. She had truly hoped that the world wouldn't mar him as it apparently has.

She sat down at the desk in the study and fingered the inkwell and quill, studying it as she fumed. Elizabeth wished there would be something she could do to make Will come back. He had said three days… Most likely, that would turn to three weeks. She rolled her eyes and groaned. She understood his logic but she didn't entirely agree. Patricia was just as rich as any in the Caribbean or England… He could afford to lose Jillian Marcus, no matter the price. She needed someone to smack sense into Will again. She then spied a piece of paper.

'He probably wouldn't even get here till after Will's return but it would be fine… As long as he came… As long as he did what the Captain is so good at doing…' Elizabeth thought.

So she picked up the quill… She would write to Jack Sparrow… If anyone, the ol' pirate could make Will come around.


	8. VIII

1Chapter 08:

Elizabeth's letter to Jack Sparrow was to go to Tortuga to that same pub Patricia had drank her self into a stupor long ago. The Watch was her best bet in finding the captain. She hoped that the letter would find its way to the restless pirate, moreover entice him to make the trip to Port Royal again. The letter would not reach for some days so she couldn't expect him for another week or so. She wished it reach him sooner but even with the Black Pearl, which Jack still sulked and wistfully dreamt over, it would need that much time to sail the waters. Either way, who even knew if that letter would find its to Jack Sparrow when it reaches Tortuga.

Elizabeth arrived just in time for the lunch Jane, the household servant, had prepared. Jane was taking up a tray to Patricia in the upstairs bedroom when Elizabeth caught her and offered to bring the tray up.

"Just take my food to her room," Elizabeth requested with a kind smile. "I'd like to eat with her."

"Yes, ma'am," Jane nodded her head and went back down to gather the food.

Elizabeth arrived at Patricia's bedroom and smiled at the new mother cradling the little boy in her arms as she sat at a chair by the window. "You look comfortable," Elizabeth murmured taking up her own chair next to Aidan and Patricia.

"I am," Patricia grinned. She ran a finger across the baby's cheek and smiled at the little coos he made in response. "I can't believe this little person was inside me no less than a week ago! It just boggles my mind when I think about it."

"It puts _me_ in awe. I can't even imagine what it was like going through that myself." Elizabeth poured some tea into cups and separated the sandwiches for herself and Patricia. Her companion smiled and reached over her child to take one.

"When are you and James having some of your own?" Patricia teased over bread.

"Not anytime soon, that much I know," Elizabeth smirked. "He won't be returning to the Caribbean for a _very_ long time."

"Why not?"

"You just took the trip yourself. England and Port Royal are far reaches of the Earth from each other." Patricia nodded and looked back at her son. Elizabeth sighed and took a sip of her tea. "Patricia, may I be frank?"

"Of course, Elizabeth," Patricia replied, knowing what Elizabeth was going to say even before she asked permission to say it.

"I think that, since England and all this large business project has started, Will's priorities have shifted and I don't think they shifted well." She could see that Patricia paled for a moment and then turned to the window. "I want you to stay until I'm sure that you're being taken care of as well as my new nephew. Till I know Will will take care of you unconditionally."

"He's taking care of me just fine and he'll take care of Aidan just as well," Patricia said, defending her husband.

"Then why isn't Will here?" Elizabeth asked.

"Because sometimes taking care of his family means leaving us every now and then," Patricia answered.

"I cannot _believe_ you are siding with him," she rolled her eyes. "His place is here with you. Anyone could have delivered those packages. It didn't have to be him!"

"Jillian is just that way. We'd lose him if we didn't go by his orders."

"That wasn't what you were saying when you first arrived. You were ready to throw him to the sharks for leaving you like this."

"He only promised to stay till Aidan came. Aidan's come. He's free to go about his business again."

Elizabeth sat back on her chair letting go of the years of posture training she had endured before. She was too exasperated with the two. If she was willing to look at it a certain way, she could see they were right. Sacrifices had to be made in a marriage. It just so happened that, in her marriage, James was the one sacrificing his needs and so Elizabeth didn't really understand the concept as well.

"If you really insist to see things in his point of view, then fine," she sighed. "But you're still staying, staying until Jack comes anyways."

"Jack? Jack's not coming anytime soon," Patricia frowned. "Why would he?"

"Oh, he's coming. I just sent him a letter to ask him to see the new addition to the pirate family," Elizabeth grinned.

"Well, that's only if we had pirate blood in our veins," Patricia laughed, cradling Aidan, glad for the lighter subject. "But I don't have any and Will hates them enough to erase whatever pirate he might have had in him if he had that blood to begin with."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "You never thought that your father was a pirate?"

"No. Why would I?" Patricia shrugged.

"Well," Elizabeth trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable. "People talked when I was younger. They always wondered why he was gone for so long and there's the whole thing with how your father died. People just wondered if pirates had anything to do with all of it. I mean he did have connections with them. Everyone knew that."

"Just because my father and I lived a life that could come out of Shakespeare's tales doesn't mean he had anything to do with pirates," Patricia muttered, not wanting to remember just how her father had died. It wasn't something that she liked in her past and the fact that she witnessed the scene was enough to want her to bury it under more appealing memories. "He loved the romance in the stories of treasures and swordfights. That was all."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that he was and I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." Elizabeth bit her lip and tried to think of something to lighten the mood again. "Oh! The medallion!"

"What?" Patricia looked up from her food and saw Elizabeth run out of the door and run back in with a small jewelry box.

"Speaking of treasure," Elizabeth grinned. "I've been meaning to give this to Will since you've come but it never seemed quite right. I thought he might be angry with me if he had known I had it all this time. I think it'd be better coming from you."

"What is it?" Patricia put the sleeping Aidan in his cradle and took the velvet box into her hands. She opened it and saw a golden medallion. It looked old even though it shined in the sun and her brows furrowed at the etched skull in the middle.

"I found it with Will when we found him at that shipwreck. Call it childish ignorance but it looked like a pirate medallion. I was afraid he'd be questioned for it so I took it before my father or James saw," Elizabeth explained. "Now that it's been so long, I'm afraid he'd be angry with me for keeping it for so long, never telling him." She looked up and saw the way that Patricia was holding it and the way she stared at it. Thinking that Patricia was angry, she let out a hurried apology.

"No." Patricia turned the medallion over and saw the same etching. "I'm not upset or anything. Will might be but I'm sure he'll get over it. The past is the past. It's not like it will come back to haunt him or anything of the sort. That's just in the stories."

"Then what's wrong?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have one just like it," Patricia replied. "Can you go to the vanity and get me that little music box?"

Elizabeth acquiesced and fetched a purple box locked shut by a gold keyhole.

"Just like it? Are you serious?" Elizabeth hurried to Patricia's side and watched Patricia open the box with a key that hung on a necklace she wore. The box opened and she saw a great number of jewels and underneath it all was what seemed like a gold coin. Patricia took it out and Elizabeth gasped. The medallions were indeed identical. Mark for mark, skull for skull, there was no mistaking that both had similar origins. "Where did you get yours from?"

"My father," Patricia gulped.

"Do you think your parents and Will's parents might have known each other?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know," Patricia frowned. She sat back down at her chair and put the medallions on the tray where the food was set. "I mean, I'm sure I'm just being paranoid since you were just talking about pirates and all but…" She trailed off and looked at ocean just outside. "It does make you think though."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed. She picked the medallions up and rubbed her handkerchief on it. "It got wet," she muttered, shining it. "Water must have accumulated on the tray."

"I think I'll keep them both in here," Patricia murmured, taking the medallions and putting them back into her music box, "If it's important, then it'll come up again. For all we know, it just might be the same jeweler with a taste for Indian culture."

"You're probably right." Elizabeth returned the medallions to their proper place. When she sat back down, Elizabeth looked outside, frowning at something she just noticed. The winds have changed.

Miles and miles away, where the undead waited and waited a sign, a swarm of pirates had begun to emerge from caves hidden by fog and magic. In the waters of Ile de Muerta, the island that could be found by only those who already know where it is, the Black Pearl let down its sails and its captain boarded to the helm.

"Can ye feel it, boys?" Barbossa cried over his crew and a resounding 'aye' followed. Barbossa threw his head back in a laugh. Years counting to over a decade had passed since the medallions silent cry had made it to their ears across waters and wind. They could hear it now. They could hear its call and Barbossa and his crew intend to heed it.

Please review! It's all I ever say. Thank you!


	9. IX

1**AN—**In response to some comments, Elizabeth, Will and Patricia know that Jack was mutinied against on the Black Pearl but don't know about the medallions and the curse. If you remember, Jack was already legendary and Elizabeth knew of him before the movie even began and were even mentioned in the previous story, **_Things Change_**.

AND, Ile de **La** Tortue and Tortue Island is the proper name of Tortuga. And Ile de Muerta, I'm not so sure about. I just used 'Ile' to be consistent with the names of the islands.

Chapter 09:

It seemed like all the pirates in the world were enjoying a night out on the town in Tortuga. There was so much rum being poured in every tavern that one wondered how many fields of sugar canes it must have taken to produce enough of the sweet alcohol for just one night on this decadent island. Not to mention, though Tortuga was the most well known, pirates were drinking their fill on the nearby Margarita and Isla Blanquilla. Innumerable quantities of sugar canes, indeed.

Women in their dirty skirts and rouged lips were looking for some money. One in particular saw a rather dashing pirate sitting at the corner of the Watch, his legs propped high on the table. The girl spied the dreaded black hair and the black boots that dripped mud on the table. His beard was wiry and was slightly organized into two little braids. Under that beard and those kohl-lined eyes was a crease of hidden anger and the whore thought that this one might want to forget his troubles for a few schillings. She sashayed over and dragged her hands down his chest, playing with his open tunic and the brown leather jacket and vest.

"You look a bit glum here, sir," she purred nuzzling her lips against his neck. "How about a little—"

"Not tonight, strumpet," the pirate sulked. He took her arms off him and most unceremoniously pushed her away to the next table of pirates. She fell into two men who drunkenly shrugged her off as well. Feeling the obvious rejection, she walked away in a huff.

"Why, Jack Sparrow," Gibbs said in disbelief seeing the woman leave just as he arrived with a bottle of rum and two empty mugs. He sat down across Jack and popped the bottle open. "That was the first time, I believe, I've ever seen you reject a lay."

"Fifteen years, Gibbs," Jack muttered, ignoring the obvious teasing. "This damn compass is fucking worthless!" He slammed a compass down onto the table with one hand angrily. With the other, he swiped the bottle that Gibbs was about to pour and took a long swig, leaving Gibbs with nothing but two empty mugs.

"It's paining me heart to see ye like this, Jack. Wasting away and drinking my half of the rum, I could almost pity you," Gibbs grumbled. "And it's bad luck to be talking like that about magical objects. Maybe you shoulda taken that whore up on her offer."

"Ahhh… what's the use?" Jack groaned. "After fifteen years, I'm nowhere near as to getting my revenge on that traitorous son of a bitch as I was when he left me for dead on that godforsaken spit of land."

Gibbs picked the compass up and suggested, "Maybe its magic has gone." However, even as he said this the needle began to spin and then halted, pointing south towards the mainland of Haiti.

"Still wanting that slave girl, I see," Jack mused when he saw the needle's direction.

"Folayemi… She was a good one, she was." Silence overtook them.

AnaMaria saw the two pirates from the door and joined them at the table. When neither of them greeted her she frowned.

"Who or what died, ye silly creatures? You look like your mothers have just died."

"More like our hope that we'll ever get what we want," Gibbs muttered.

"You two obviously haven't had much to drink yet," AnaMaria observed taking Jack's bottle and taking a few gulps of her own. "For chrissake, you're pirates, not poets. What the hell are you two going on about?"

"You obviously already have everything you want," Gibbs fought back. He nudged the compass at her direction and AnaMaria immediately realized what this was about.

"Oh…" AnaMaria picked up the compass and held it so that only she could see where the needle pointed. She followed the slow spin of the needle and then watched it stop, pointing at exactly who she thought it would point to. "I wouldn't say that exactly."

"What does it point to?" Jack asked peering over her hand without moving anything but his eyes.

"None of your damn business," Anamaria snapped. Her hand closed the compass and slid it back across the table. "We need to get back on the sea. You two are going crazy here on land."

"And go _where_ exactly, my lovely Ana?" Jack replied leaning over the table. "My compass doesn't work so we have no direction. Without direction, we have no goal and even as pirates, love, we need to want to get somewhere."

"Maybe there's a reason why it won't point?" Anamaria suggested, resorting to humoring the ill-tempered pirate. "Maybe it's not possible to have your revenge on Barbossa yet."

"Well, then this thing is bloody useless." Jack took the compass and checked it one last time. The needle was spinning again and refused to stop. Gibbs and Anamaria watched the needle as well as Jack took his arm and pulled it back to toss the item out of the frosted glass window. They gasped at exactly the same time when they saw the needle halt.

"STOP!" Anamaria and Gibbs yelled out simultaneously. Jack froze midthrow but still held the compass in his hand.

Anamaria simply smiled and pointed at the compass. Jack took a glance and grinned when he saw the needle being cooperative for once.

"I think this calls for a toast," Anamaria grinned pouring each one of them a pint of the rum. "To finally getting out of this shithole."

"To the sea that we'll finally sail now that Jack's out of his shithole," Gibbs laughed.

"To finally getting back my Pearl," Jack grinned taking a swig of rum and staring at the needle that pointed southwest; the direction of Port Royal to be exact.

"Where is it headed?" AnaMaria asked from her post at the wheel. Jack, who sat beside her, his legs propped on the railings, had gathered up his crew onto the _Tempest_ so quickly that there was little time for a chat. All he had said was that treasure was involved and all who heard, heeded.

"I'm thinking London actually, which would be convenient, eh? Pay a little visit to Bootstrap and Phil's kids and see if they got some wee ones o' their own?" Jack grinned. He was in a happier mood than he'd ever been in the last ten years or so. The _L'Mer Rouge_ that Will, Elizabeth, Patricia and Jack st—cough—_commandered_ (Nautical term.) returned to the possession of its proper owner: Toulouse, in France. Its temporary crew had then bought the _Tempest_ in replacement with the loot they had taken on at Malagua. It was a good ship, the _Tempest: _sturdy, spacey and speedy. However, it was just _not_ the _Black Pearl. _That was their reason that they were now on this trip, or at least, that was Jack's agenda. He thought that it was high time that he got back what was rightly his.

"Have you got a plan, by any chance, Sparrow?" AnaMaria asked though she very much knew the answer she was going to be given.

"All in due time, I think, my love," Jack grinned. The female rolled her eyes but kept her senses aware; her eyes searched for clouds and other ships as well as the drift of the sea, her nose sniffed for a possible storm, her skin felt for gustier winds and she listened to waves that crashed too hard to be safe.

"All right, so you have a plan. Now let's hear it," AnaMaria replied, knowing how to translate the pirate's vague words. "I'm not going after Barbossa and his crew of miscreants without even knowing if I'm going to be the sacrificial lamb to the enemy. Now confess yourself."

"Actually, I really don't love. I'm taking this as it comes, and those who do that are usually the ones to survive." Jack took out his compass and stared at the beautiful way it directed to his beloved 'mistress'. "Plans are for sissies girls… like Will!"

"You do love to insult William, dontcha?" AnaMaria said. "I guess you are a bit afraid of the competition when it comes to women. You always were the insecure one… Cap'n."

"Insecure!" Jack gasped, feinting insult. "You would be swabbing the decks with the rest of the men if you were any one but yourself for such undermining, Ana." He stood up and with a bit of fire in his eyes, pressed himself against AnaMaria. "Of course, there _are_ other punishments."

AnaMaria looked up at Jack and thought for a moment about the needle's direction when the compass was under her hold. She smiled and then shook her head.

"It's all right, Jack. You don't have to pretend that you have balls when you're with me." She delivered the line perfectly without the smallest hint of jest in her eyes or voice. She pushed him away and laughed. "Just say where to lead the _Tempest, _Captain." AnaMaria thought she heard a low grown come from Jack but she ignored it. "Well?"

"To Port Royal," Jack muttered, slipping his compass safely into his pocket. "Let's drop our old friend the commodore a visit, shall we?"


	10. X new

Umm. Have I really been gone that long? Ff.n looks a tad different... 0.o..

Anyways! Here go!

**Chapter 10:**

Patricia was lying down on her back. Aidan was quiet in his own bed and she was grateful for her son allowing her some peace. In her hand, she held the two medallions. She had studied them long after Elizabeth had let the room. For some reason, she couldn't take her mind off of Elizabeth's words.

_You never thought that you father was a pirate?... The whole thing with how your father died._

Patricia closed her eyes remembering. She hadn't thought about her father's death in quite some time even though she thought about him in general almost everyday. It was an ugly death. She didn't like that particular memory but she decided to give that memory some energy as she was about to sleep.

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Philip Taylor was a sea merchant. A sailor, really, though his earnings reflected that he was more than just a mere dime a dozen sailor. He made connections, made important trips across the Caribbean and up and down the coast from Virginia. He would leave for months at a time leaving his wife, Andrea, with his daughter, Patricia but every time he returned, he would come back with as much love and affection a man could muster for a woman and a girl to make up for the time that he wasn't there. He was the one that told Patricia of stories of Sparrow, Blackbeard and Avery. She was told of their ways with women, rum and gold. Andrea would indignantly protest her husband's romanticizing of these dangerous characters but she always lost.

She was about ten when her father returned to Port Royal for good though he came back an entirely different man. Andrea had just succumbed to influenza. Patricia had been alone in the world for a few months before her father came back to rescue her from the corrupt men that were taking advantage of the girl to get at her father's riches. Patricia thought that it was only her mother's death that made her father different but there was something else that she couldn't entirely place...

Philip was shifty and became paranoid. He looked once, twice, three times behind him as he walked along the marketplace. For a year, there seemed to be no change until the governor and his daughter arrived in Port Royal. They brought with them a boy of Patricia's age. She never knew why but Philip took him in to his home in a heartbeat. Life was becoming well and good again. Will began to take care of Patricia almost as a debt to the girl's father for taking care of him. Their family was formed until that fateful night.

Philip was at a pub on Fisher's Row at the west end of the Port Royal peninsula. She was 14 and he was 15. Will had recently taken an apprenticeship at Brown's blacksmith shop and the trio was going to celebrate his year's anniversary there. Patricia and Will were nearing the pub when they saw her father standing outside with some men.

Patricia was about to call out to her father when Will pulled his hand over her mouth and pulled her into the shadows. They watched as the two other men talked to Philip Taylor and watched as he backed away fearfully. Suddenly, the men began to walk away, snickering to themselves as Philip Taylor wiped the sweat off his brow. Patricia was now fighting against Will to get to her father. She managed to free her jaw and she bit down on his hand. Will immediately let her go with a curse and Patricia began to run. Will called after her but Patricia didn't want to listen. She turned around to tell Will off for holding her back and just as she turned away from her father she heard a dull crack and the neigh of a horse.

Patricia would hear that crack every time someone stepped on a twig or when firewood popped in its burning. And every time she'd remember her father and that look of surprise that overtook his pleasant cherubic face. Black horses had snapped their leather leashes and had kicked the man down from behind. Patricia couldn't do anything but watch, frozen, as she saw the legs stamp their feet down.

Will came running to her side and shielded her from something he didn't want her to see just as he would a five years later on Malagua.

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Her fists held tightly against the sheets, remembering it all. Her memory had become her dreams as she was reminiscing. She had fallen into a restless sleep. In her dreams, instead of focusing on her father as she ran to him, her eyes went to the background of the picture. She saw the men that talked to her father. His skin was dark, his bottom lip protruding farther than his upper lip. His dreads draped down below his shoulders and his sneer was menacing. The moonlight was becoming tangible and as it hit the man's face, his skin deteriorated and skull looked back at her with a bloody grin.

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Koehler trudged across the Black Pearl and whipped the lower crew into a faster pace. They were near Port Royal and as with everyone cursed on the ship, they felt the distance between themselves and the two slips of engraved golden salvation was disappearing as quick as they sailed through the waters.

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Review please? Thank you!


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